Fallen Angel
by cr8vgrl
Summary: She was his destined fallen angel, knocked down by his demon of a brother. But Fred was determined to love her and care for her so that in time, she would soar once more, and so that her heart might be whole.


**A/N: I own nothing!! (As usual!) Thanks so much to wvvampire for betaing for me! Merry Christmas, Crystal! :D Enjoy!**

**This was written for the Twin Exchanges December challenge.**

**Prompts:** cherries, unwanted present, tinsel

**Pairing:** Fred/Hermione

**Quote: **"Ah, thanks…I think" (Quote is written in bold type)

**Theme:** Christmas

* * *

Fred and George Weasley had just poured themselves a cup each of firewhiskey, under the pretense of toasting their first successful Christmas as Weasley's Wizard Wheezes owners, when the door opened and Hermione Granger stumbled in. For a moment, no one said anything, and Fred was provided with a golden opportunity to stare at her.

It was only then that he noticed that she was crying.

Her gorgeous chestnut eyes were rather red and bloodshot, her robes were buttoned haphazardly, as though she had been in a hurry, and her curly hair was even more tangled than normal. Her porcelain cheeks were red with exertion, and Fred could only guess that they were also red due to the cold outside. What he had first taken for a white cap perched atop her head was, in fact, a small amount of snow. Hermione's trembling soon shook the snow off, right onto their clean floor.

"Hey!" George cried teasingly, not having noticed the tear quickly rolling down Hermione's cheek. "That's breaking and entering! The door was locked!"

Fred elbowed his brother. "Stop it," he hissed, standing and quickly striding over to Hermione, who was casting shamefaced glances towards the door that she had magically unlocked. "It's fine, Hermione," he said, startling her by using her first name. "Come in and have a seat. George, pour her a cup."

As he was speaking, he cast a murmured warming charm that Hermione barely heard, and had succeeded in pulling her coat off and hanging it up for her. "Thank you," she stuttered, the redness of her face having nothing to do with the cold this time. "I'm sorry about the lock. I wasn't really thinking straight."

Fred shook his head as he easily transfigured a box into a chair and gently pushed her down into it. "It's no problem. You're just lucky we were down in the shop."

George had finished pouring her drink and handed it to her carefully. "There you go, Granger," he said.

Hermione took the cup and thanked him, taking a long sip before she looked up at the twins again. When she did, they were wearing matching expressions of concern. "Hermione, is something wrong?" Fred asked. The Hermione Granger he knew would have taken the cup to be polite, but would not have drunk out of it. The Hermione Granger he knew would not have shown up at their joke shop after probably wandering around for a while and disabled their lock. In fact, the Hermione Granger he knew would not be opening her mouth at the moment and telling him what's wrong.

"Nothing," she characteristically said.

Fred was momentarily pleased to see that the Hermione he knew still lay somewhere beneath her obviously ruffled countenance. Then he rolled his eyes. "Hermione," he said with a sigh, rubbing his forehead. "Not that we aren't honored by your ingenious presence," he warned her.

"But you shouldn't be here," George added.

"You should be-"

"At the Burrow-"

"With Ron," they finished together.

_That_ comment produced two matching red spots high up on Hermione's cheeks that had nothing to do with the firewhiskey. "That's the _last_ place I need to be at the moment," she told them angrily. She sat back against the back of the chair and glared at them. "Would you liked to know _why_ it's the last place I should be?"

"I have a feeling you're about to tell us," George murmured, earning a jab in the ribs from Fred.

"Yes, I am," Hermione said, ignoring George's snide comment. Her gaze flittered towards Fred for a moment before she stared down at the floor, her hands visibly clenching around her mug of firewhiskey. "I broke up with him," she told them, and then added, "right after he broke up with me."

George shot a glance at Fred before asking, "Why?"

Hermione shook her head angrily, and George thought that she might not answer his question. "We were supposed to exchange Christmas presents after everyone else had gone to bed because we wanted some alone time. I handed him my present-"

"What'd you get him?" Fred interrupted.

Hermione looked at him, and there was a softness in her eyes that he saw before she frowned. "That's completely irrelevant, Fred."

George snorted and Fred flushed. "Sorry," he muttered, and then murmured something about Ron getting presents that were too good for him. Hermione could not hear the whole one-sided conversation though, so she let it go.

"I put a lot of thought and effort into his present," she said, and it sounded as though she was trying to convince herself of the fact, and not the twins. "And then what does he give me? A charm written on a piece of crumpled paper, and a copy of Playwizard."

Perhaps she had expected pity. Maybe she had only expected an understanding nod. However, she received none of those, as George burst out laughing. Hermione frowned, slightly stung by his obvious disregard for her. "I'm sorry," he managed to choke out, speaking to his brother, who was glaring darkly at him, as well as Hermione. A couple more laughs bubbled up before he regained control of himself and said with a wave of his hand, "Go on."

Hermione stared at him in shock. He was expecting more than that? He needed more of a reason than that? Then, she realized that she had not explained Ron's backwards reasoning for the presents. "The charm was for my hair," she explained. "It was supposed to make my hair completely, stickpin straight."

Fred frowned. "Why? Your hair's beautiful." As soon as the words left his mouth, he snapped his jaw shut. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Hermione paused, and then smiled hesitantly at him. Fred had never complimented her before. Perhaps he'd had one glass of firewhiskey too many before she'd gotten there. "Thanks," she said, "but apparently Ron doesn't think so. He handed me that charm, told me he hoped that it would be powerful enough to work on my hair," she paused to make sure they understood the underlying offense of that comment, "and gave me the magazine and asked if I couldn't do my makeup like that on a regular basis. I yelled at him, of course."

George pressed his lips together, striving not to laugh. It was quite obvious that the girl was upset, but it was just so funny! And just so idiotically Ron. He was wracking his brain for something kind to say that wouldn't be taken out of context, but his twin beat him to it by saying, "We're so sorry, Hermione."

"Yeah," George said. "Ron's an idiot. Glad you finally broke up with him, you know, after he broke up with you."

**"Ah, thanks…I think," **Hermione said with a frown, beginning to feel like crying all over again.

Fred glared at him, and George realized that the comment probably wasn't the _best_ one he could come up with at the time. He stood quickly and motioned towards the second story where their flat was located. "I'm going to go…somewhere," he said, grabbing the bottle of firewhiskey as he waved goodbye to Hermione, who was taking large gulps of her drink. "Let me know how the things go," he told his brother, and was gone in a flash, apparating away before his brother could hex him for his insensitivity.

Fred glared at the spot where his brother had been and then stood, pulling his chair next to Hermione's. Ever so gently, he placed his arm around her small shoulders, drinking in the feeling of being so close to her. "He's sorry," Fred said softly. "He just doesn't know how to say it gently." He reached out with his free hand a wiped a tear away from Hermione's cheek. "We can't stand to see you cry."

"It's fine," Hermione sniffled. "I don't blame him. And I probably wouldn't have broken up with Ron over something this silly in the past, but he's been out gallivanting around with other girls, and I can't stand that. I've given him far too many chances as it is." She leaned her head against Fred's shoulder and sighed. "I wish I'd just chosen you first."

Fred pulled away from her in surprise. "What?" he asked, shocked.

Hermione righted herself as Fred pulled away and repeated, "I said I wish I'd chosen you first. Why, is that such a repulsive idea to you?"

Fred shook his head. "No, quite the opposite," he backpedaled, and then realized that he was quickly loosing hold on the one secret he kept from all of his family except for George. "I mean-" he stuttered, and Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him, amused. Finally, he managed to gasp out, "I think you've had too much to drink." In his mind, Hermione would never have said something like that unless  
she had indeed had too much to drink.

Hermione actually grinned at that statement. She shook her head and said, "I haven't had anything to drink at all." She tipped her cup so that he could see the contents, and instead of the fiery liquid he had been expecting, pure, clear water stared back at him.

"But that's-that's-" he so eloquently stuttered.

"Wordless, wandless magic," she assured him. "I've been practicing." With a tight, rather hesitant smile, she asked, "Do you like me, Fred?" The fear of rejection showed on her face, and it was her turn to backpedal. "It's fine if you don't."

"No, I do," Fred told her firmly, taking her small hands in his larger ones and turned so that he faced her. "I've liked you for a long time, but you've seemed so," he winced, "masochistically happy with Ron that I've never tried to tell you."

Hermione squeezed his hands. "I wish you would've," she told him softly. "I've had quite the crush on you for a while. Perhaps I wouldn't have ended up with a hair charm and a guys' magazine for Christmas then."

Together, they laughed, and Fred pulled her into a warm hug. Somewhere in the store, a clock chimed the arrival of midnight, and Christmas was no more. A sharp whistle split the air, and then rockets exploded towards the roof. Hermione gasped as confetti and tinsel rained down on her from the fireworks above. "What…?" she asked vaguely, watching tinsel flutter down on the store.

Fred seemed embarrassed. "A large company asked us if we could make them for the New Year's celebrations, so we thought we might as well try. The tinsel's charmed to disappear in an hour to cut down on cleanup. We weren't sure if they would work, but we set the time for the end of our first entrepreneur Christmas to test them out."

Hermione fingered a small bunch of tinsel that had fallen onto her lap and smiled up at Fred. "I think it worked brilliantly," she told him.

"Yeah," he said, striving for nonchalance, but couldn't quite hide the grin on his face.

Hermione, suddenly aware that she had pieces of red, green, and gold tinsel and confetti in her hair, put a hand up self-consciously to brush the pieces out, but Fred caught her hand and shook his head. "Leave it," he told her gently. "It looks beautiful in your hair." He fingered a large chunk of her locks and added with a smile, "Your beautiful, curly hair."

He bent his head down, hesitating, making sure that Hermione really wanted this, but when she only waited impatiently, he sealed her lips with his. As he kissed her, he pulled her close to his body, never wanting to let her go now that he had found her. She smiled happily into the kiss as her hand crept up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. They stayed that way, locked in their embrace, for a long time, and Fred decided right then that he preferred this form of celebrating over his brother and firewhiskey any day.

"We should do this again sometime," he said after he had pulled away slightly. "Maybe next Christmas?" He was only teasing, testing the waters, but Hermione smiled up at him.

"You're going to make me wait that long?" she asked, pretending to be in a state of disbelief. "Christmas might be over, Mr. Weasley, but the spirit of joy and giving extends at _least_ to the end of the month."

Fred returned her smile with one of his own. "I'll see what I can do," he promised her.

The firelight played off the planes of her face, and Fred was struck by how beautiful she looked at the moment. Her eyes were no longer red, or unhappy. Her face was no longer pale and pinched. Her mouth was curved into a smile, and the confetti and tinsel that still adorned the hair he loved so much made her look like an angel with a Christmas halo.

She was his destined fallen angel, knocked down by his demon of a brother, he realized as he bent to kiss her again. But Fred was determined to love her and care for her so that in time, she would soar once more, and so that her heart might be whole.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! This is my first time writing a challenge, so I hope I did it right! :D Please review and make my holidays a little happier!**


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